


Peonies

by lady_godiva



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Drabble, M/M, Panic Attacks, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_godiva/pseuds/lady_godiva
Summary: Steve remembers peonies.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Kudos: 10





	Peonies

Every year on her birthday, he would gather all the spare change he could, and get his mother peonies. For as long as he could remember, every year, a bunch would appear on their kitchen window sill, like clockwork. When he got his first job, he surprised her with the flowers, so she could use her own money for something special, a treat. 

When he woke up this morning, he knew, even as a headache began to hammer behind his eyes, that this would be a rough day; one of many, recently. Twisting over onto his stomach, he had buried his face in his pillow, willing the day away. When he could no longer put it off, he made himself take a shower and face the world. 

He’d managed to make it through breakfast, but as he washed his plate, he could feel tremors in his hands and through his arms. He hated this feeling; hated how helpless he felt, even now, decades later. Helpless to stop the illness that ravaged his mother’s body, eating away at her lively spirit a little more every day. Hated how he remembered every drawn line of her pale face, and her blue-tinged lips, and her eyes, so hollow and dull. 

When he came back to himself, he was on the floor, and there were black flickers at the edges of his vision. A warm, soft touch at his elbow alerted him to an equally soft, warm voice. “Steve. Breathe in … and out … Good.” He felt safe, so he followed the voice’s directions. “Come here, big guy.” And then there was warmth all around him, and softness, oh, a blanket. Oh, Tony. 

He was aware he was staring, but he couldn’t help himself. He was struck by how the morning sunlight warmed the other man’s skin, and made his eyes almost glow. He may have lost a lot over the years, lost so many people, lost his mother, but he knew, looking at honey-brown eyes, that he’d found so much, too.


End file.
